Cliffhangers
by DebbieB
Summary: Every once in a while, I start a story I just can't finish. Whether it's because the story just went nowhere, or became obsolete, these little snippets just ended up dead in the water. Cliffhangers is where they will wind upeach chapter is a different u
1. Sister Suffragette AliceTracy femslash

Title: Here's to You, Sister Suffragette  
Author: MinervaFan  
Fandom: General Hospital  
Rating: Hard R  
Characters: Tracy, Alice  
Part One: A Woman Like Alice  
Word Count: 7,936 words (Part One)  
Warning: Femslash  
Ficathon: _What if Tracy and Alice had met before…?_

A/N: I'm not 100 sure of the timeline on this one. If it's wrong, just consider it AU. The story takes place just after Tracy dumped Dillon on the Quartermaines. At this time, for the purposes of this story, Tracy and Alice have never met.

Summary: Two very different people find strength in each other on a rainy New York night.

The rain was pounding down on the runway as Alice Gunderson motioned for the bartender to get her another scotch and soda. She normally didn't drink during the day—there was something about working for a gaggle of lushes that turned a girl off alcohol—but today, she made an exception. JFK International Airport was busy as always, but this bar tended to be quiet in the early afternoons. Alice knew this because she'd spent a summer working as a gate monitor in the international terminal, a job which sorta forced her to find the quiet spots. People weren't Alice's strong suit, and a few hours of dealing with the unwashed masses usually had her itching to hurt something. And since manhandling international travelers was not really part of the job description, she'd taken to hiding out here during her breaks and lunch.

"You're hitting it pretty hard today, aren't you?" Baxter behind the bar was a decent-looking enough guy, for a complete loser. He wore a moustache that looked like it hadn't been trimmed in too many months, thin in too many spots to be really viable. Hell, Alice had seen better moustaches on girls in her book club, but she wasn't going to tell him that. Baxter was nice enough, and usually didn't talk too much. A really good combination ni a bartender, as far as she was concerned.

"I'm on vacation," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, but it's still pretty early in the day for you, isn't it?"

"The woman is paying her money," a voice said from behind her. "She has the right to order anything she wants. If you want to comment on her drinking habits, take it to AA. Otherwise, why don't you do your job and stop harassing paying customers?"

Alice turned to see the source of the voice. She was an older woman, with short bobbed hair with a wild-looking blonde streak framing her elegant features. The woman was maybe in her early fifties, dressed like a million bucks, and looked like she wanted someone to thrash. Since Alice was already in a bad mood and the woman _had_ stuck up for her, she shrugged and motioned for Miss Thang to sit next to her at the bar. The woman stiffened in that way the very rich had when they came into unexpected contact with the peasant class, then took a huge calming breath before sitting in the stool just one seat down from Alice.

Close, but not familiar.

Alice shook her head and took a sip of her scotch. Pays to be nice to people, she thought glumly.

"What'll ya have?" Baxter said, not too politely. Polite wasn't really part of Baxter's repertoire. The older woman handed him a twenty and asked for a martini.

Alice noticed her hands. It was a weird thing she had, but she just tended to see hands first, people second. This woman did not have the hands of a rich woman. They were strong, and just beginning to show her age. They were slightly broad, well-formed but not delicate. She tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the counter, looking straight ahead at the bottles behind the bar.

Alice turned to look at the bottles that were capturing the woman's interest so completely. They were just bottles. She couldn't see anything so interesting at all about them. She turned back to the woman, a prettyish thing if you went for that sort. There was a stone-like quality to her eyes, to the set of her shoulders. Her arms crooked tightly as she leaned onto the bar, posture be damned. When the martini came, she downed it in a single gulp, wincing slightly as she motioned for the bartender to bring her another of the same. At airport prices, she had maybe one more martini from that twenty, Alice guessed.

"Scared of flying?" Alice asked, not sure why she felt compelled to talk to this woman. She wasn't in the mood for people, especially rich bitch types who looked at her like she was dirt.

"No." She was still staring straight ahead, her fingers the only thing moving on her hands. "Not at all."

"Me, neither," Alice said, still sipping her scotch. She didn't want to talk to this woman. She hadn't really gone that far down the ladder, had she? Was she really spending her vacation in an airport bar talking to strangers, while people with lives all around them rushed to catch their planes, rushed to live their lives, to do their business? Alice had no life for the moment, not until nine-thirty, anyway, and she kind of hated it. "I'm not even flying today," she admitted. "I just came to meet someone."

The woman dragged her eyes away from the bottles long enough to raise an eyebrow at her, a gesture that was accompanied by an incredulous look. "Absolutely not interested," she said coldly.

Alice didn't get it for a moment, then she realized what the woman thought Alice was suggesting. "Absolutely not asking," she countered. Who did this woman think she was, anyway? On another day, she would have laughed it off, made a joke of it, and maybe even got a smile out of the sourpuss. But today was not another day. Today was today, and today Alice didn't feel like cow-towing to some spoiled rich dowager who thought she could say anything she wanted and get away with it. "Who the hell do you think you are, anyway? I mean, I'm just trying to be friendly here."

"I don't want you to be friendly. If anything, I want you to be silent. Invisible. Away."

"I was here first, lady," Alice grumbled as Baxter handed the woman her second martini, which she slammed down just like the first.

"Another," she croaked.

Baxter looked uncomfortable. "The twenty won't cover it," he began.

The woman stopped, frozen, obviously humiliated. "Never mind," she said softly, her eyes not wavering from the bottles, which had suddenly regained their mesmerizing qualities. Her entire body was ramrod straight, her jaw tight in profile, her hands motionless for the first time since she sat down.

Alice almost felt sorry for her. She leaned towards the woman, a wave of compassion cutting through her awful mood. "Can I--?"

"Go to hell," the woman spat, burying her face in her hands.

This just does it, Alice thought as her jaw went slack and her head shook of its own volition. "Listen, I was just trying to be nice. You don't have to bite my head off." She let out a disgusted sigh. "Who the hell do you think you are, anyway?"

"The most despicable human being to ever walk the planet," the woman said in one of the saddest voices Alice had ever heard. She was staring at her empty glass now, her face no longer frozen, her hands no longer still. Her fingers were tapping furiously, and she seemed to be almost rocking as she sat there, lost in her own self-loathing. "Wanna know what I just did?" she said to no one in particular.

Since she was the only one there, being that Baxter had suddenly found something more important to do in the back room, Alice assumed responsibility for answering the question. "Sure," she said gently. Sometimes, it took seeing someone more miserable that you were to get you over your own shit. "What did you just do?"

The woman looked up at Alice. Her eyes were sparkling, but Alice knew that no tears were going to dare edge past those lashes. Her face seemed ageless in that moment, high cheek bones, well-formed mouth, good skin, lovely eyes. She could have been a former model, or a society queen. She could have been a courtesan or a business leader or somebody's childhood sweetheart, gone and forgotten except in the sweetest of memories.

"What did you just do," Alice prompted when the woman just stared at her, lost in silence, lost in some other place far away from the bustling airport and its people with places to go and lives to live. "Tell me."

"I just abandoned my son."

Whoa, Alice thought, nodding. "That tops _my _crappy day," she murmured, and bought the woman a drink.

It was getting dark when they finished the bottle of tequila. Alice couldn't remember the last time she'd had this much of a buzz, and she was perfectly great with it. The woman, whose name was Tracy, thank you very much, had let her buy the drinks. She didn't talk much more about her son, but just making that revelation had done the trick and broken the ice between them.

For a rich bitch snob, she was pretty decent. Funny and smart, with a quick comeback for pretty much anything Alice threw at her. And the more they drank, the funnier she got.

At least, Alice thought so. Or maybe it was just that she wanted to laugh tonight, and Tracy…well, Tracy wanted somebody to talk to, and she couldn't afford her own drinks. Alice wanted someone to take care of, and her lover didn't want to be lovers at the moment. So the solution had seemed heaven-sent, especially when the announcement came that Tracy's international flight had been delayed due to inclement weather.

Alice didn't do martinis, so they settled on tequila shots. It was kind of funny watching this woman do shots. She didn't use lime, and she didn't use a chaser. She didn't use salt. Tracy slammed her tequila like a New Mexican teamster and didn't even flinch after the first one burned its way down her throat. It was everything Alice could do to keep up, even though she was fifteen years younger and outweighed the woman by at least sixty pounds.

"So where _are_ you flying to?" she slurred, playing with the empty shot glasses as she waited for the answer.

" _I…_ " Tracy paused for effect, as if the world should stop and pay attention to this very important revelation. Once she'd gotten over herself, she seemed to do that fairly often. "I am flying back to the arms of my lover, a sorry-assed, mean-spirited, kid-hating, manipulative son-of-a-bitch that I don't even like."

"Wow. That just makes _me _want to just hop a transatlantic flight this very moment," Alice snarked.

"Oh, yeah…" Tracy affected a bad version of a male Italian accent. "'You are homesick,' he said. 'You need to visit your family, Tracy,' he said. 'I will pay for you to take the boy to see his grandparents,' he said. 'Let me do this for you,' he said. It wasn't until I got here that he decided to tell me..._ in Italian_ …that he'd taken the liberty of canceling my son's return flight for me."

"Ouch."

"Yeah," Tracy said, pouring herself another shot and downing it in one gulp. "So I got to look that sweet kid in the face, to tell him I love him, and then sneak out the back way so he wouldn't have to watch me leave. So he didn't have to face the fact that I was dumping him with his grandparents."

"That sucks."

Tracy nodded, stealing a lime from Alice's stash and nibbling at it, sans tequila. "Absolutely."

Alice leaned onto one hand, her shoulder-length brown hair brushing the counter beneath her. "What I don't know is why you'd go back to a jerk like that? I mean, why don't you just dump the guy and stay with your kid?"

Tracy paused, her eyes connecting with those stupid bottles again, going back into that faraway place. "Because he owns me," she whispered. Then she shrugged, shaking it off and quickly reestablishing her cool façade. "I owe him money. I owe everybody money."

"Why don't you just stay with your folks until you get back on your feet?" Alice couldn't understand how a woman like this would ever find herself in such a state of dependence on any man, much less a low-life like the one she described.

Tracy laughed, a bitter sound. "I'm not exactly welcome in my parents' home." She went to pour herself another shot, frowning when she realized the bottle was dry. She put it back on the counter with a thud. "I'm not exactly welcome most places," she elaborated.

"You seem okay to me," Alice said. "Once you got that stick outta your ass…"

"That's because you don't know me." Tracy smiled, resting her chin on the palm of her right hand. "Nothing kills a person's affection for me better than getting to know me." She reached out with her free hand to grab some pretzels from the bowl on the counter between them. Popping one into her mouth, she sighed nonchalantly. "It takes most people less than a week to learn to completely hate me. Some can do it in an hour."

"Now there's something for the resume." Alice stole one of Tracy's pretzels right out of her hand and popped it into her mouth. "Wanna know what I did today?"

"Aboustlutely, Alice," Tracy said as she reached for more pretzels.

"I rented a limo and came to the airport, where my soon to be ex-girlfriend works, to sweep her off to a romantic weekend for two." She lifted a hand when Tracy began to say, "awww…" "No so fast. See, I won this contest—romantic hotel in the city, cruise for two up the eastern seaboard on one of the casino cruises out of Atlantic City….and I decided that it was time to take it to the next level. You know, the big "C?"

"Craps?"

"Commitment. I had everything planned out—a limo is going to arrive to pick us up at nine-thirty when she gets off work. (She's a security monitor at the international check-in.) There's gonna be champagne and roses and a room full of red, white and pink balloons waiting at the hotel. I was going to give her this—" Alice reached into her pocket and pulled out the piece she'd gotten for her lover—a gorgeous chain-mail bracelet with a heart-shaped piece of rose-quartz dangling from it. It was actually sort of delicate, and really pretty in a not-so-common sort of way.

"Nice," Tracy said without a hint of sarcasm.

"Yeah. I surprised her, down at the very security check point where we met last summer. Got down on my knees, and asked her to be mine." Alice dropped the pretzel she held onto the counter, balled the bracelet into a wad of chain metal, and shoved it back into her pocket. She turned to Tracy with a look of utter defeat on her face. "Three guesses."

"Boom?" Tracy asked, her face scrunching up in an expression of absolute sympathy.

"Kersplat," Alice said.

"She's obviously a bitch," Tracy said. "And a fool, no doubt." Tracy picked up the bottle, tipping it over to see if she could garner a few more drops out of it. "As a show of solidarity, I officially hate her." She set the bottle back down, sighing in disappointment.

"Thank you, Tracy. And I officially hate—what's his name?"

"Eduardo. Can you imagine that? The Italian fuck has the same name as my father." She laughed humorlessly. "That should have been my first clue to run screaming in the night…."

"Dr. Freud would have been so proud."

Tracy gave her a curious look then reached for the bottle. "Damn," she said, remembering it was empty. It was very apparent that Tracy didn't want to have to ask for another.

And for the moment, Alice didn't want to offer. She was perfectly happy talking, and she didn't know how much farther this conversation could go with them drunk as skunks. She was just about to suggest they go to the food court for a bite when Baxter's replacement, Eliana, showed up.

"Bad news, ladies. The announcement just came down—all remaining flights have been cancelled until tomorrow due to the weather."

"It's barely raining outside," Alice argued.

"Microbursts. Don't need that much rain to blow a plane right off the runway." Eliana looked purposefully at Alice. "We close in ten minutes, if you want to settle your tab?"

Alice rolled her eyes. It wasn't often she spent that much time in a bar, and she didn't like feeling rushed. She turned to Tracy, who was looking nauseous. "You okay?"

"I gotta call Eduardo," she muttered, her face looking pale and sick. "He's gonna be furious."

"He can't blame the weather on you…."

"He can do anything he wants." It was the voice of a woman who had learned that the hard way, and Alice felt her blood run cold at the thought of just what a man would have to do to crush a woman like Tracy so completely.

"They're asking people to go to the terminals to get their flight information. Should be okay tomorrow," Eliana offered.

Alice was still watching the expression on Tracy's face as she handed a wad of cash to the bartender. Miss Tracy looked like she was going to be physically ill. "You want me to walk with you to the terminal," she asked.

"Would you?" Tracy turned to her with a grateful look in her eyes then shook her head. "Your ex-girlfriend—she'll be there. I don't want you to have to—"

"_Do you want me to go with you?_

Tracy paused, eyes closed for a long moment, then nodded. "Would you please?"

"Let's go get your flight information."

They left the bar and made their way quickly through the terminal. Alice knew a shortcut through the service entries, and looked so authoritative as she guided them through the side doors and hallways that nobody questioned their employee status (which, of course, they didn't have). She got Tracy safely to her terminal, pointedly ignored the questioning look of her ex-girlfriend as Tracy took her arm when they were going through the security check, and then stool by patiently while the she talked with the counter rep. Alice tried not to turn back towards the checkpoint to see if her ex was watching. She didn't want to think about her right now. She was just here to make sure a friend got safely to where she was going.

Which might not be as easy as possible, it seemed, as the voices at the counter started getting louder. From her carefully developed eavesdropping skills, Alice was able to easily ascertain that, although the airline had offered to put up its delayed passengers in local hotels for the night, there was a problem.

There was always a problem.

This time it was overbooking, conventions in town, bad weather creating an unnaturally high demand for rooms near the airport—all of it boiling down to they expected Tracy and the few people who'd gotten there too late to spend the night in the first class lounge.

"That's ridiculous," Alice said, barging her way to the counter. "There's got to be a hotel somewhere in the whole city that has a room…."

"We're only contracted with certain hotels," the clerk said tiredly, as if he'd said the same thing too many times that night. "Normally, it's more than adequate. Unfortunately—"

"Unfortunately, my big round ass," Alice interrupted. "You are going to find this lady a hotel room. You are going to make sure it's a nice one, and you're going to do it with a smile on your face. You got that…" She leaned over to peer at his name tag. "Hans?"

"We will of course continue to try to place our guests in rooms throughout the night," he said as if reading a script. "Until then, we ask that our passengers enjoy the comfort of our first class lounge, regardless of their ticket status."

"Translation: you're gonna wait until she's in the lounge, then you're going to close down your terminal and go home to your nice warm bed and a boyfriend named 'Steve.'"

"Let it go," Tracy said. She had taken her purse and put in on the counter. She started digging through it and pulled out a cell phone. "Thanks for trying…Hansel…whatever your name is…" She turned away from the counter, grabbing her purse as she headed for the nearest chair. Sitting down with a plop, she opened the phone and dialed a ridiculously long string of numbers from memory. It took a moment before someone on the other end answered.

Alice stayed a respectable distance away, to at least give the appearance that she wasn't eavesdropping. She needed have bothered, as Tracy began speaking in Italian to whoever was on the other end. Alice's grasp of that particular language of love began and ended with "ravioli" and "ragu." Still, you didn't have to be Sonny Corleone to know that the conversation was not going well. Tracy's side of the conversation grew more erratic as time passed, and she slipped into English several times as she grew more visibly upset. Alice caught a few phrases, but nothing that would really clue her in.

All she knew for sure was that Eduardo wasn't really happy with the situation, and that he probably _was _blaming her for the weather. When Tracy snapped the phone shut, she looked like she wanted to throw the thing across the room. "I need a drink," was all she said as she stood and joined Alice near the counter.

"That bad?"

Tracy looked like she was counting to ten, then back again, before speaking. "I _need_ a drink."

Alice nodded. Pretty much everything in the airport would start closing down soon. But she knew a place nearby that was clean and relatively cheap. She put her arm on Tracy's elbow. "Come on," she said. "Let's get the hell out of here."

They walked together towards the security check, Alice slinging Tracy's carryon over her shoulder as they did. They were just getting to the point where she'd have to decide whether or not to meet her ex's eyes when she saw the limo guy with the sign. It read "Gunderson Party."

Alice cringed.

"Just what I need," she muttered. Tracy's eyes followed her gaze, and she seemed to notice that Alice's ex was looking at the sign.

"What do you want to do?" Tracy whispered, gesturing slightly towards where the ex was standing with a few of her buddies.

"Sink into the floor," Alice said honestly.

"Trust me?" Tracy paused, turning to Alice. "Honestly, do you trust me?"

"Um, yeah…" Alice wasn't sure what she was up to, but anything would be better than this.

"Excuse me!" Tracy called to the driver, gesturing him towards them. "Help us with my bag, will you?" She then turned to Alice and made a grand show of smiling, flirting, and wrapping her arms in Alice's. The driver motioned for them to follow, and they walked right passed the security station with Tracy looking adoringly up at Alice.

The expression on her ex's face was priceless, especially when Tracy landed a slow kiss on Alice's mouth. "Having fun yet?" she asked when they finally cleared out of visual range.

Alice had to laugh as they made their way to the limo. "Oh, yeah."

When they got to the car, the porter reached for Tracy's bag that Alice was carrying. He obviously thought she was accompanying Alice to the hotel. Tracy held back, embarrassed. "Look, that was for her benefit," she said, trying to stop the guy without making too much of a scene. "I really am not trying to insinuate myself into—"

Alice stopped her, handing the bag to the porter with a grin on her face. "Why didn't I think of it before? I've got a room; you need a room. Why on earth would you stay here when you could live it up in the lap of luxury?" She motioned for Tracy to stop arguing and to get her pretty butt in the limo. When they were both situated, she leaned back and took a deep, cleansing breath. They were leaving the airport. It was over…with her ex, and with the ordeal of dealing with her. Now, she just had a night of pampering ahead of her, with a lovely stranger who needed her as much as she needed to be needed. Alice cast a look at Tracy, who was adjusting her skirt as she leaned back into the seat. Maybe the evening wasn't going to be a complete loss after all.

The Plaza Hotel was one of the most famous hotels in New York City, perhaps the world. Alice had always dreamed of staying here, and when she and Tracy entered the room, she realized the reason for all the hype. It was gorgeous—a huge king-sized bed, fabulous amenities, elegant décor. And of course the view—the Manhattan skyline spread out before them like fairyland at night. She waded through the balloons, which seemed corny and obnoxious now, to put Tracy's bag on the dresser. Hers were already stacked neatly in the corner; she'd had them stowed here when she checked in earlier to set everything up.

When she turned around, though, it was a totally different story. Tracy was twirling in the forest of helium balloons, face upturned, hands spread out as she reached for the dangling ribbons, tugging at one then another, laughing like a child. "This is amazing!" She couldn't stop laughing as she wandered through the fifty helium balloons Alice had ordered to surprise her lover. "Your ex is an idiot," she said as she collapsed onto the bed, an armful of balloons following her down, bobbing and smacking into each other as they did so. "This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever thought of…" she said in a breathless voice, still playing with the balloon strings as she spoke.

"That's because you've got two martinis and half a bottle of tequila in your system…." Alice lay down on the bed next to her, arms behind her head as she watched the balloons dancing above them.

"That's because you're an amazing and thoughtful woman who deserves better than that ungrateful little wretch."

"Yeah…"

"Damn right, sister suffragette!"

"To liberation," Alice said.

"To freedom," Tracy whispered, and rolled over on the bed, facing away from Alice.

Alice wasn't sure, but she thought maybe Tracy might be crying. She didn't want to intrude. She didn't know her well enough to intrude, but she didn't want her to feel bad. It was bad enough that she was feeling so horrible, bad enough she had to leave her kid, and that she was going back to that Italian skunk… "Stay here tonight," Alice whispered. She put a hand on Tracy's shoulder to comfort her. There was an undeniable moment of tension before Tracy relaxed, turned over, and smiled.

There was no denying the truth behind Tracy's smile: she thought it was time to pay for her room and board.

Alice felt sick to her stomach. What kind of place did Tracy come from? Did every act of kindness come with a price tag, usually of the humiliating and soul-destroying variety? "Um, look," Alice mumbled. "I know it might be awkward for you, because I'm, well…you know…"

"A lesbian," Tracy said without judgment.

"Yeah. I know it's a king bed, and I just want you to know you're welcome to stay the night. No strings attached, no obligations. I don't want you to think anybody is going to ask you to do anything you don't want to do." Boy, that was awkward, especially since Tracy had started to smile halfway through her spiel. By the end of it, she was grinning widely, and Alice felt like a complete idiot.

"What about the things I _want_ to do?" Tracy's voice was soft and laced with amusement.

Whoa, mama. Alice took a deep breath, feeling the brunt of the tequila for the first time that night. Or was it the Tracy Essence peeking out from behind her broken persona? "Uh, what do you want to do?" Alice ventured.

Tracy leaned very close to her, a conspiratorial look in her eyes. "I want to..." She licked her lips, too sexy for words, and Alice felt her heel start tapping the air of its own accord. "Take a bath. A steaming hot bath. I feel like I've got the grime of an entire city on me."

"Hey, it's New York," Alice choked out, feeling ten times the idiot. She couldn't be sure if Tracy was playing her, or if she really didn't know the affect she was having on her. "A bath? That's entirely possible." Alice felt a huge wave of relief wash over her as she realized Tracy hadn't seemed to notice her discomfort. She sat up, helping Tracy into a sitting position with one tug of her strong arm. "There's a huge bathroom in this joint, make yourself comfortable." she said. "Hey, the room comes with a complimentary dinner for two. Want me to order it for us while you're in your bath?"

Tracy moaned happily. "Food sounds wonderful." She lurched herself off the bed and stumbled slightly towards the dresser where Alice had stowed her carry-on. Slinging it over her shoulder, she paused to gaze up at Alice for a long moment. "Your idiot really _is_ an ex, you know?"

"My ex is an idiot, you mean?"

"Yeah. A total idiot," she said, and stood on her toes to kiss Alice's cheek. "I'm going for a swim." And she disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Alice amused and confused as she picked up the phone to order their dinner.

The table was already set when Tracy finally came out of the bath. Alice didn't notice her at first—this current gig as a housekeeper had her in a certain mode, and she was busy fiddling with the dinner settings, making everything perfect, getting the silverware right…

"You look like a trained professional," Tracy said from the bathroom door, and Alice chuckled without looking up.

"You have no idea what I'm trained to do," Alice said as she placed the final fork and turned to invite Tracy to sit. Her heart leapt into her throat as she got a look at the older woman.

Tracy wore a lacy negligee, floor length and midnight blue, low-cut and delicate and mostly lace and downright indecent for the most part. She posed without the slightest hint of modesty while Alice gawked, unable to drag her eyes away from the sight. "Sorry," Tracy said with a trace of humor in her voice. "Eduardo really frowns on the whole 'pajamas and fuzzy slippers' look." She gestured down her body with her hands, a look of self-deprecating amusement on her face. "It's all I had."

"Um, yeah…" Alice turned forcefully back to the table, burying anything she'd felt in housekeeper mode. Turn this current employment nightmare into a positive. "We have tons of food. Lots of different things to choose from—" Alice had to stop as she looked down at the table. The pre-ordered meal included all sorts of items known to work as aphrodisiacs—oysters, asparagus, truffles, figs, chocolate—amongst the entrees and appetizers. She began to laugh, because it was all she could do at the moment. "Lots of stuff to get us in the mood," she said with a sense of irony.

Tracy had crossed the room to her side, and now placed a soft hand on her shoulder. She was shorter than Alice, and had to reach up to make this simple gesture. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know you're hurting." Alice had turned, and saw the expression of surprise on Tracy's face as she said the last. Something suggested she wasn't used to feeling empathy, much less expressing it. "Your ex is an idiot," she whispered again, and Alice knew she had no clue what was really going on here.

"Yeah," Alice said, shaking it off. "Let's eat, shall we? No sense letting it go cold."

They ate in relative silence, savoring the different flavors that had come with the enormous spread of food. Exotic tastes and textures tickled the palate, calmed and restored the spirit. The wine was subtle and matched well with the entrée of broiled redfish in almond sauce. Alice watched Tracy as she ate, her _to the manor born_ comportment showing as she expertly navigated food Alice had only served before, never eaten.

She was dangerous, this one, because there were more layers to her than she showed at any one given moment. She was dangerous, Alice knew, because she was vulnerable right now, but wouldn't remain so.

Alice had to fight the urge to let her hurt over her ex push her into a rebound situation. Everybody who knew her said that Alice's biggest Achilles' heel had always been her soft heart. Give her a person who needed to be rescued, and Alice was a pushover.

For the moment, Tracy needed to be rescued. But she herself had said she was unlovable. The woman had to know what she was talking about. And it was never a good idea to trust feelings you got so soon after a break up.

Feelings of desire, and warmth, and affection. She actually caught herself thinking, for the briefest moment, that if only she had the right kind of love, if only someone treated her right, the way she was supposed to be treated, Tracy might be transformed. Tracy might be redeemed.

It was the Theme Song of the Stupid Romantic Woman, and Alice could play it by heart. It had gotten her in trouble so many times before, and she was determined she wasn't going to let it send her into an ill-fated, unrequited affection for a straight, broke, self-admitted bitch, no matter how sweet she was tonight.

Tracy leaned forward to pluck a leaf from the artichoke on Alice's plate. She dipped it into the seasoned butter and handed it to Alice.

Alice grinned as she took the artichoke leaf. "I _know_ how to eat an artichoke," she scolded.

The food seemed to have done its trick. Tracy seemed more balanced now, and her voice was steadier. Someone who hadn't slammed down all that tequila with her might not even notice she was drunk. "You've been staring into space for an hour now."

"You're exaggerating."

"Eat," she said, and took another bite of zucchini. Alice noticed she ate the fish sparingly, but didn't have a problem with putting away the lighter stuff—vegetables, fruit, even the parsley on the plate had been nibbled between courses. To clear the palate, she'd explained. The bread she almost completely ignored, except when they first started. She'd had a huge hunk of the dark bread with butter, basically to soak up the alcohol and get her stomach ready for the meal. She ate with purpose, something Alice was beginning to notice as a trait for everything Tracy did.

Purposeful. Focused.

Alice looked down at her own plate, a mishmash of meat and heavy sides, jumbled together without purpose or plan, just like her life. She felt a wave of self-loathing crash down around her. Why should her ex want to commit to her? Alice had spent her entire adult life following the little shiny objects, from place to place, from meaningless job to meaningless job. She was as unfocused and misdirected as she was large and obnoxious. She put down her fork, not hungry anymore.

"Hey," Tracy said softly. When Alice failed to look up at her, she reached across the table to touch her cheek, "Hey, here's the new rule. You don't obsess over yours, and I won't over mine. Okay?" She stroked Alice's cheek for a moment then pulled her hand back, taking her napkin from her lap and placing neatly next to her plate. "Well, I'm done," she said. "I can't eat another thing."

Alice looked up. "We still have dessert."

"Will it keep?"

"Yeah," Alice said. She wasn't hungry, per se, but she could still eat. Hell, she was so depressed she could eat everything on her plate, Tracy's, and the extras on the serving platter-- _plus_ both their desserts. "Later?"

Tracy was stretching, stifling a yawn. "Perfect." She stood up and headed for the bathroom. After a few moments, she returned to find Alice clearing up the dinner dishes. "Don't do that!" She was laughing at her, not unkindly. "You're on vacation, Alice. There are people who can do that in the morning."

"The food—"

"You've already boxed that up. Now stop clearing the dishes, push the cart into the corner, put the leftovers in the fridge, and go get dressed for bed."

Alice could feel the blush forming at the base of her neck and moving upwards till it covered her entire head. "Oh, I just sleep in my clothes," she muttered.

Tracy laughed, landing on the bed with a graceful bounce, her _everything_ falling into place just exactly where it was supposed to… "Puh-lease," she teased. "You're telling me you packed for a romantic weekend with your sweetie and planned on sleeping in your clothes?" She nudged a single shoulder forward flirtatiously. "Not fair. I showed you _my_ 'Singing for My Supper' nightie. You show me yours."

Alice didn't say a thing. She just shoved the leftovers in the fridge, grabbed her bag from the corner, and retreated into the bathroom. She had to get control of herself. She was torn between thinking Tracy was clueless to the effect she was having and thinking that woman knew just exactly what she was doing.

If she did, then Tracy was an even bigger bitch than she claimed to be.

Alice opened her bag and pulled out the nightgown she'd brought. Granted, she hadn't intended to wear it for more than, oh, twenty seconds or so. It was red, satin, and gorgeous. She pulled off the jeans she wore, the nicely pressed linen shirt, her brassiere and panties. She hopped into the shower, cold as she could stand it, her hair pulled safely back to avoid the spray of icy water.

Once she was clean and dried, she stared at herself in the mirror for a long time. The face that looked back at her, so familiar and welcome a sight under normal circumstances, now repulsed her. She obsessed on her own round features, her too-large mouth, her bright eyes sunken into what seemed to be mounds and mounds of flesh. Her hair, which was absolutely marvelous in better times, seemed mousy and overdone for someone like her. Somebody like Alice didn't deserve soft waves. Somebody like Alice didn't deserve gentle highlights on thick, fine hair that framed her features perfectly.

She felt the sudden urge to chop it all off, and knew that she was too drunk and depressed to be thinking clearly.

Alice slipped the nightgown over her head, breathing in slightly as the satin slipped over her naked body. It clung to her, low enough to flatter her abundant cleavage. Try as she might, Alice couldn't help but be proud of that part of her body—it made up for being a huge cow, otherwise.

"Stop it," she whispered to her reflection. "Stop being an idiot. Stop doing her job for you." She meant her ex, of course, but maybe also Tracy. Maybe Tracy knew exactly what she was doing; maybe this was a game to her. Play with the fat dyke, eat her food, drink her booze—make her think she's worthy.

Maybe she'd be lucky, and Tracy would have passed out by now. She took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.

The lights were all turned off except for the one next to Alice's side of the bed. Tracy had pushed the dinner cart into the corner, as Alice had forgotten to do, and had also straightened the luggage that Alice had disturbed when she went for her bag.

Tracy was in bed, asleep.

Alice didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. She slipped into the bed next to Tracy, quickly pulling the covers around her before turning off the light. She was just closing her eyes when she heard the soft voice next to her.

"I'm leaving him."

It took a moment for Alice to put the words into context. Who was she leaving? Eduardo. The abusive prick. "Good idea," she said without commitment.

"For what it's worth, I made the decision before I met you."

"Good." What did that mean?

Tracy fussed with the covers as she rolled onto her side, facing Alice. "The minute he threw my kid out, the deal was off. I could put up with just about anything else, but this—"

"Why are you going back?" Alice wanted to kick herself. She didn't care why this woman was going back to her abusive boyfriend, or whether she actually intended to leave him when she got there. She didn't want to get sucked into another sob story, another life she couldn't change. She'd tried to fix her ex, and look where it got her.

Her heart wasn't strong enough to go through that again.

"It's so stupid, you won't believe it." Alice's eyes were adjusting to the dim light, and she could Tracy outlined against the ambient light. New York City was so bright, even the thick curtains couldn't hold the city lights out completely. Tracy's hair lay soft on the pillow, and Alice could swear she saw a halo effect around her head.

That's it, she thought. Tomorrow I quit drinking.

"So, are you gonna share this ridiculous reason," she prompted.

Tracy nestled deeper into the thick blanket, wrapping her slender arm around the material until it pillowed against her chest. "I learned a long time ago that it was best, given my…uh, personality, not to travel too heavy. My kid has never owned a book or game or anything. We rented everything except our clothes, and were always ready to leave at a moment's notice."

Alice didn't say a thing about that, even though she personally thought it was a horrible way to live life. "And?"

"And the only thing I have, the only thing I carry with me no matter where I go, is a picture album." She could hear Tracy groan at the thought, felt the tug of the blanket as Tracy tightened her grip on it. "I never go anywhere without it. Ever."

"And?"

"The morning we left to come home, I had the album out. There was a picture we'd taken in Milan that I wanted to put in before I left." She hesitated, rocking gently into the blanket she held. "Eduardo came in and started screaming at me about something or another. We got into a fight, and I just grabbed Dillon and headed for the airport."

"You forgot the photo album."

"Stupid, huh? I'm going back to that asshole for a bunch of pictures." Her voice broke slightly. "Baby pictures—both my boys, me, my brother. A copy of my parents' wedding picture. Me and my brother at the lake when we were kids." She sniffed, still holding the blanket. "Most of them I stole from my parents' albums," she admitted. "But my mother didn't care. Every time I come home, we always find a moment to sit together, just her and me, and look through the album. I always try to have at least one new one to show her." She was crying now. Alice reached over and pulled her into an embrace, no longer caring what she felt or needed, just wanting to comfort the woman in bed next to her. Tracy's tears were real enough, hot on her shoulders as she buried herself in Alice's arms. "I didn't get to see her at all this trip. It's been ages since…" She choked in another breath, holding the larger woman tightly. "It's been so long since I've seen her."

They stayed that way for a long time, Tracy in Alice's arms, Alice with her eyes closed, chin resting on the older woman's head. After a while, Tracy quieted down, her breathing becoming more steady as the wave of sadness passed. Alice could have stayed like this all night. She loved the feel of a woman in her arms, even more so than actual sex. There was a peace to holding another woman like this, a warmth that came from the closeness shared in an embrace that was impossible to reproduce in any other situation. She blew out soothing little sounds, "shh's" and "mmm's," breathed them into Tracy's soft hair, wrapped her in a cocoon of safety.

It was enough for her. It was restorative.

Tracy looked up, her eyes large and gentle, and Alice knew in her gut that this was not a normal expression for her. She was not well at all, this Tracy of hers, and Alice knew it. When Tracy pressed her mouth to Alice's, gentle, hungry, tender, she hesitated. "Tracy…"

"I know, I know," Tracy said, peppering her throat with kisses, then her shoulders and down to her massive expanse of cleavage. "You won't ask me to do anything I don't want to do." She punctuated the words with kisses, hot and deep, against Alice's flesh.

She was only human. Alice leaned down, claiming Tracy's mouth hungrily, pushing her tongue past those perfectly white teeth, wrapping her arms around Tracy's waist to pull them flat against each other. She was gratified by the feel of arms around her neck, hands in her hair, hips thrusting suggestively against her own pelvis.

"I don't…" Alice pulled back, trying to remember why she didn't want to do this. "I don't do one night stands."

"Neither do I," Tracy agreed, her hands roaming all over Alice's body, reveling in the soft curves, the strength just below the fleshy exterior. "My plane _could_ get delayed tomorrow. It doesn't necessarily _have_ to be a one night stand…"

"You're flying back to Italy tomorrow," Alice countered. "I'll never see you again."

"I told you, you wouldn't like me once you got to know me." She shook her head, frustrated, wanting more than she could have, and not wanting to have to explain why. "Look, we're adults. We know what this is. Why fight it? Why not let ourselves, both of us, have _one _moment of pleasure? Just a moment?"

She was beautiful. Alice knew that she could fall for this woman easily. She knew that she could make herself crazy with worry, wondering what she was up to, what sort of trouble she was in. She knew she could get in too deep, too fast, if she let herself.

But what she didn't know was if she could push her out of her bed.

What she didn't know is if she would ever forgive herself if she let this opportunity slip past her.

Tracy was straight. Well, mostly straight, considering how aggressively and expertly she'd started coming on to Alice. She was taken, for the moment anyway, until she made good on her promises to leave the Italian Scallion. And worst of all, she was leaving in the morning, probably for good.

Alice stared at Tracy, all vulnerability and sensuality and class and gritty passion rolled into one gorgeous, neurotic package. She knew this was a one time deal. She'd never again have the opportunity to make love to this woman.

Was it worth it?

Alice leaned in for another kiss. Just a few moments more, and she wouldn't have to decide. Her body wouldn't give her a choice.

_Coming in Chapter Two: Tracy Wakes Up in Alice's Arms_


	2. Her Good Friend Marta

**Summary: **When Luke vanished in Summer 2005, Tracy ran off to Europe. This is where she went, and what she was doing.  
**Author's Notes: **My attempt to create a coherent, non-canon reality for Tracy. The character of Marta first appears in the story Beggar in the House of Plenty.

The afternoon was stifling when she arrived in Athens. Tracy allowed Marta's housekeeper, seemingly all of ninety, to take her bags and lead her into the sun room. Tracy's Greek was only slightly better than the housekeeper's English, but they managed to get to the point.

"And she's not seen the doctor since?"

The old woman shook her head, confirming what Tracy feared. "She cursed him in three languages, and Poof! Banished him from the house."

"Where is she?"

"She does not want to speak to anyone, Lady Ashton," the old housekeeper said, using the title Tracy had used when she first met Marta Jennings so many years ago, back when they were both unhappily married to titled Englishmen.

"She'll speak to me," Tracy said. She looked through the door into the foyer, towards the spiraled staircase. "Her room up there?"

"Second on the left. I'm not responsible," she added, hefting Tracy's bags and heading for a different door. "Your room is that way," she said, nodding gruffly forwards before disappearing through the door.

Tracy hesitated, taking a deep clearing breath. The room was gorgeous--bright and airy, with a spectacular view of the sea through a series of French doors along the western wall. She could almost imagine the sunsets in this room, with its gleaming white walls, pale wicker furniture, soft pastels. She wanted to stay here, rest from her journey. But she hadn't come here for a vacation. She checked her hair in the mirror, making sure she was presentable, then went out into the foyer to climb the steps to the second floor.

The door to Marta's room was closed. She thought about knocking first, but decided against it. Marta was just as likely to refuse her entrance as anyone else, and Tracy was not going to let that happen. So she slowly opened the door, whispering Marta's name as she entered.

The room was dark, the blinds shut tight against the mid-day sun, and there was no sound except heavy breathing from the general direction where a bed should be. It took a moment, but when Tracy's eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw Marta in bed, asleep. She closed the door gently, crossed the distance to her old friend's bed, and stood there for a long moment.

Even in the dark, she could see how badly the cancer had ravaged Marta. Never a beauty to begin with, the disease had wreaked havoc on her face, hollowing out already thin cheeks, darkening the circles beneath her eyes. She looked ghastly, her hair thin and clumped into uneven patches. Beneath her nightgown, Marta's collarbone stuck out under paper-thin skin, almost transparent, as if it could be ripped away by a single fingernail.

Tracy caught her breath at the sight of this woman, this tough old broad so diminished by disease. She forced the tears back through sheer force of will, forced down the sickness in her stomach. She was ready when those purple-shadowed eyelids flickered open, when Marta squinted and then scowled in recognition.

"Look what the cat drug in," the old woman coughed. "You look good," she added, covering her mouth with a single gnarled hand.

"You look like hell," Tracy said affectionately, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on Marta's cheek. "I suppose I don't have to ask why you didn't call?"

"Oh, don't you start too…."

"Don't worry. I'm not here to nag," she said, her tone lighter than she felt. Marta _did_ look like hell. She sat next to old friend on the bed, one hand stroking the older woman's forehead while she lifted her own damp hair from her neck with the other. Athens was sticky and hot this time of the year, although apparently Marta had not felt the need to open the windows and shutters to get a breeze in.

"What are you here for?" The old woman snorted and answered her own question. "My dunce of a son told I'd stopped my chemo, and you think you can talk me back into it. Well, you've wasted a trip, lamb. You can just get back on that plane and go back to America."

"Bull," Tracy grunt, and stood to open the window.

"Don't…"

"You can't hide from the world." It was a quiet six words, but they echoed through the room like thunder. They both knew them well. Marta had been saying them to Tracy since she was in her twenties. Tracy felt vindicated saying them now as she opened the window and pushed hard on the heavy, dusty shutters. A burst of light invaded the room, the advance front for a series of cool Aegean breezes that completely changed the context of the moment. Tracy breathed it in as she turned to survey the room, now bathed in late afternoon sun.

Marta had placed her pillow dramatically over her head in protest. Tracy ignored her, her eyes far more concerned with the thick layer of dust that covered practically every flat surface in the room. "Your staff is getting lazy," she scolded.

"I pay them not to bother me," Marta said through the pillow. "They perform adequately."

"Oh, yes, train them to be obnoxious and steal from you," Tracy said. Marta had rolled over onto her side, her back to the sunlight. In the light, Tracy could see the outline of her spine in the afternoon glow—hollows and peaks, jagged and rough under the skin. She held her breath, held in the panic she felt at her friend's frailty, at the obvious mortality in that withering human shell. "I hope I'm not too late."

"You need to go home," Marta said again. This time her accent was more prominent, a trace of the old girl back in those five short syllables.

_Good_ , Tracy thought. _Get angry. Get good and pissed off at me._ As long as she kept fighting, she would keep living. At least, that's what Tracy told herself. "I need to be right where I am."

The End

Written for the LJ 100 Situations ficathon.

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